


Helping John

by mariaWASD



Series: Everyone Needs Help Sometimes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Coming Untouched, Dom John, I'm crap with titles can you tell, John needs to get out of his head, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Porn With Feels, Rope Bondage, Sub Sherlock, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariaWASD/pseuds/mariaWASD
Summary: Sherlock struggles to ask for what he wants, but then John comes home from an awful shift at the clinic and both their problems get solved rather enthusiastically.





	Helping John

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments on the first part, I was asked if there's going to be more and here it is. 
> 
> I would love to hear what you think in the comments!

It was, when one tried to put it in words, everything Sherlock wanted and everything he didn’t even know he wanted. 

What happened eight days ago, if it was in fact a Thursday (he would have to check), changed their relationship from flatmates to…well, he supposed boyfriends would be an appropriate term and waited long and hard for the annoyance over something so pedestrian to set in, but was rather annoyed at himself for not being able to stop grinning about it. 

Anyway, the change was gradual, but fast and Sherlock felt better than he ever had. 

The morning after their session, Sherlock had woken first, after an impressive nine hours of sleep and for probably the first time in his life, he didn’t want to get up. 

Normally he would be bored within ten minutes and thus beginning the next day of finding anything to occupy his mind. 

But he was still laying on John’s chest, warm and cozy under the blanket and he had found other things to think about. 

John’s breathing- and heart rate, muscle percentage compared to body weight and height and where it would place John compared to the average British male (he would have to look into that) and so much more. 

The incredible thing about it was, that he couldn’t imagine to every learn everything there was to learn about John and even if he someday did, he would still not grow tired of John, because it was _John_. 

He was still in his lazy, morning fogged thoughts when John began to stir and wake up. 

For a brief moment, Sherlock wondered if John would panic every second now, realising what had happened, but when he felt himself getting turned on his back, John slotting comfortably between his legs and started kissing him slow and with so much tenderness, all doubt was washed away in a wave of warmth and, being honest, happiness. 

He wrapped his arms around John’s shoulders and legs around his waist and from there it grew heated quite quickly. 

They were rutting against each other, the kisses going sloppier the more they went out of breath and it didn’t take long for both of them to come only a few seconds apart. 

The doze they fell into afterwards resulted in dried ejaculate on both of them which then lead to a shared shower and a round of mutual handjobs and Sherlock understood now what everyone was on about when they talked about their teenage years, only that it apparently came two decades later for him. 

Since then, they were at each other with hands, and after a called in favour for blood tests, mouths and fingers in every room of 221b and, he couldn’t believe how it happened, but yesterday _he_ was the one who fucked John. Slowly with long stokes until John begged to come and hadn’t that been a sight to see…and hear. 

What Sherlock so loved about all of this was that they both agreed that they didn’t need the BDSM aspect to play into every sexual thing they did. 

Sure, Sherlock liked it when John’s dominance showed, whether they were just snogging or he was giving John a mid-afternoon blowjob in the kitchen, just because he wanted to, but it wasn’t a necessity for them in order to feel satisfied. 

But…here he was now, sitting in his armchair, John with a full day shift at the clinic, and positively _aching_ to have John dominate him thoroughly. 

The problem was that he had no idea how to ask for it. 

Should he just go to John and outright say ‘John, let’s do a scene’ or ‘John, dominate me’ or his personal favorite right now ‘John, make me kneel, hit me and fuck me into the mattress’. 

Just thinking about all the things they could be doing made him half-hard. 

Maybe now that they were having regular sex, John wasn’t that interesting in it? 

***

He was still sitting in the exact same spot when John came home, but something was off, judging by the way John’s usual tread on the stairs was slower and ever so slightly uneven. 

Sherlock’s observations were then confirmed when John entered the flat, his posture was tense, his face was pulled into a grimace and he looked rather exhausted all over. 

He got up and made his way into the kitchen, where John was currently attempting to make tea, but going by the way he was carelessly closing cabinets with loud bangs and then rubbing his hands over his face, he must be feeling really bad. 

Sherlock was unsure what do to, he wanted to close the space between them and get John into a tight hug and then kiss him and try to make him feel better, but maybe John needed some space and the right thing to do was to go back into the living room and be quiet. 

If he had more experience with this, he would probably know. 

But he didn’t just want to go away either, so he settled on words for now. 

“Are you all right?” Sherlock asked, it was clear John wasn’t, but there was nothing better coming to him as this. 

John sighed and braced is hands on the edge of the counter. “No, not really.” 

He didn’t elaborate further, so Sherlock tentatively took a step closer and asked, “Do you want to…” he paused, the words feeling utterly foreign in his mouth, but he hated seeing John this way, “…talk about it?” 

John looked up to him, a small smile on his lips and then he came to Sherlock, stretching up and pulling him down in a hug and sighing loudly. 

“Thank you for asking,” John said and gave Sherlock a peck on the lips,”but I don’t actually know what has me so…whatever it is. It was just a shit day, parents with kids that just have a cold, vaccine-activists that seem to just come for the sake of telling doctors why they think vaccines are bad and then just an awful amount of people who think they know exactly what issues they have, me then telling them that they’re wrong to which they just outright ignore me and go on and on, because well, what they read on the internet must be true right.” 

Sherlock patiently listened to John’s rant, felt him relaxing a bit in his arms and then surprised himself by how much it relaxed him as well. 

And then, he had the perfect plan how he could make John feel better and get him out of his head. 

He should do some research if dominant partners experience a similar kind of headspace like Subs did that took them out of their minds and just focused them on their counterpart alone. 

Sherlock began nibbling at John’s throat and then wandered upwards to just below his ear, a place that always made John’s incredibly aroused. 

He feared for a moment that John might not be in the mood (that was what people called it right?) for any kind of sexual interaction right now, but as he felt John’s hands move slowly down to his arse, grabbing the two globes tightly and thereby pulling Sherlock even closer to him, the erection that pressed against his own was enough evidence. 

“John,” Sherlock began, speaking right into his ear and making his voice as low as possible, “I think you need to relax a bit, get out of your head.” 

“Hmm, sounds good,” John answered and trailed his hands up Sherlock’s back and around to the buttons of his dress shirt. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly what Sherlock meant, so he gently caught John’s wrists in his hands, making John look up with confusion in his eyes. 

Sherlock gave him a small smile and said, “I was thinking about getting you out of your head, just as you helped me that first night.” 

Understanding was flooding John’s eyes but it was also mixed with apprehension. “Sherlock, I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. You said that you did this when you had too much in your head and you couldn’t concentrate, that’s not the case right now, is it?” 

_Oh_. 

He had said that, not explicitly, but he understood why John would come to that conclusion and until that time with John, it was true. 

He never wanted to sub unless his mind became too flooded with all the sensory input, data, theories and everything else running simultaneously trough his neurons. 

But with John, he wanted it apart from that as well and he wanted it differently. 

What he wanted now was not specifically to get out of his head, although he would suspect it would happen anyway, which was absolutely fine by him, but because there was this want in him, the desire to play with John, to let John do things to him and just enjoy it. 

And above all that, he wanted to help John and make him feel good again. 

Sherlock brought their lips together and was pleased when John opened his mouth for him right away and poured everything into it that he couldn’t say with words. 

He then took a step backward to put some space between them, their eyes meeting, and said, “That is not entirely the truth anymore. I want this now, too. I’ve been fantasizing a lot about it actually.” 

John looked more than intrigued. “Oh? So what have you been thinking of then?” he asked with a smirk. 

Sherlock answered with a smirk of his own. “It’s not about me this time, what have _you_ been dreaming about, John.” 

He saw John shiver and his eyes momentarily getting a far away look, while he was probably recalling some of his fantasies. 

When John surfaced again after a few seconds, his posture and the whole air in the room changed. It made Sherlock’s breath catch in his throat and he knew that John had made his decision. 

John began to slowly circle around Sherlock, while he couldn’t do anything than stay rooted right where he was, pinned down by the electricity in the air and John’s heated gaze. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? The things I couldn’t get out of my head? The things I want to do to you that were so vivid in my imaginations that I actually bought a few things, so if I ever got the chance to play with you again, I could use them?” 

That momentarily halted his thoughts. John had bought things to play with? For them? And he had no idea about it? How did that slip his ever observant mind? When did this happen? What did he buy? 

“Yes,” was all Sherlock could get out in that moment. 

John came to stand right in front of Sherlock, those blue eyes burning into him and the way John held himself was enough to stop his breathing and made his legs quiver. 

John trailed his gaze down Sherlock’s body, definitely noticing Sherlock’s erection staining against his trousers, and then back up before it bore into him once again. “I want to tie you up, Sherlock Holmes. Tie you up, so you’re just my toy to play with, because I think those pretty nipples of yours could use a little work on them, don’t you think? And when they’re nice and sore and you’re begging me to give you more, I’m going to fuck you so good, you’re going to scream my name.” 

_Fuck, yes. All of that._

“Do it,” Sherlock growled and the words had been barely spoken before John was pushing him against the kitchen wall and crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss. 

He was pinned by John’s weight, his mouth being claimed by John’s tongue and he couldn’t do anything except try and keep up with it, which was turning out to be more difficult by the second when he felt himself getting dizzy with arousal and his legs shaking more and more. 

“Bedroom, _now_ ,” John commanded when he had to come up for air and Sherlock could only nod dumbly and shuffled slowly into the bedroom, trying his hardest to keep his legs from giving out underneath him. 

Once in the bedroom, John began undressing Sherlock. He didn’t expect it, but it only added to what he was already feeling so strongly. John was even taking control of this now and Sherlock couldn’t help but moan softly at the thought that right now, John _owned_ him.

He was here for John’s pleasure, to be used and marked and handled at John’s will. 

Instead of feeling exposed and self conscious, all Sherlock could feel was the worship in John’s eyes, the pure hunger there and the delicious exchange of power, heightened by the fact that John was still fully clothed. 

When his pants were taken from him and John was standing behind him, out of sight, the anticipation that build within him while John just stood and let him wait made the hairs on his back stand up, let goosebumps break out on his arms and his heart was pounding against his chest. 

Time had already ceased to exist, so when John ordered, “Kneel,” he had no idea if three minutes or an hour had passed, but it didn’t matter, he dropped to his knees and obediently put his hands behind his back. 

“Good boy,” John praised, “do you remember the other two rules as well?” 

“Don’t come without permission, _Sir_ ,” Sherlock replied, feeling himself blush for the way he, intentionally, answered John’s question. 

He saw John coming to stand at his side, but kept his eyes straight ahead, before he felt his hair being gripped and pulled back, so he was forced to look up into John’s eyes, the pain in his scalp sending tingling waved down his spine. 

“Cheeky are we today?” John quipped and promptly pinched Sherlock’s left nipple, making him gasp and shudder with pain. 

Between those two points, he was already unable to move, relieving the pain on his scalp made his nipple throb even harder and the other way felt like his head was on fire. 

Even breathing was causing him more pain, but when John let go, he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or wanted more already. 

“Up you go,” John said and pulled Sherlock to his feet. “Kneel on the middle of the bed, back to the headboard.” 

Sherlock did as he was told and then watched wide eyed as John went to his wardrobe and dug a small box out of it. 

When he turned around, grinning, he presented the box to Sherlock and said, “Hiding in plain sight, isn’t that what you always say? Worked pretty well.” 

He was about to blurt out how brilliant John was, but then the lid of the box was pulled away and suddenly, the ability to form words just left him. 

There in the box were three coils of beautiful burgundy rope, a pair of nipple clamps attached to both ends of a silver chain and scissors. 

Sherlock just stared and tried to control his breathing. 

John took the coils and the nipple clamps out and placed them in front of Sherlock. “What is your safeword, Sherlock?” 

“Anthophila, Sir.” 

“Good. And tell me again what I will do should you use it.” 

“Everything you’re doing will stop and you will not be angry or disappointed in me, Sir.” 

John smiled at him with so much adoration in his eyes that Sherlock felt the need to reach out and thank him endlessly for it. 

“That will _always_ be true, my boy,” John said and Sherlock preened inwardly at John calling him _his boy_. 

He then got up on the bed as well and kneeled in front of Sherlock, mirroring his position and began playing with Sherlock’s nipples. 

John started rubbing them with his thumbs to get them hard and the circulation going while murmuring, “You’re so beautiful, Sherlock. All naked and staying patiently were I want you. Maybe we should buy a big mirror sometime, so you can see yourself, see how lovely that flush on you looks and your cock so hard, just for me.” 

Sherlock was just about to sigh in pleasure from John’s tender ministrations to his nipples, when he felt them being pinched by John’s thumb and forefinger, making short bursts of painful electricity shoot through his chest. 

He felt himself making high pitched noises in the back of his throat that only got louder and louder the harder John pressed his fingers together, rolling the hardened nubs between them and twisting them from time to time. 

Just when Sherlock thought John would never stop, the sharp pain subsided, leaving a dull throbbing in its wake and he opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them, to see John reaching behind him. 

_Oh fuck_.

He had already forgotten about the nipple clamps and could only watch as John held them between his finger and swallowed hard when he saw John’s smug face. 

“I think you need a little bit of distraction while I tie you up, don’t you think?” John said and then reached up to Sherlock’s right nipple and released the clamp slowly over it. 

The pain was intense and it took Sherlock a considerable amount of effort to breathe trough the initial pain, hands balling into fists behind his back. 

John waited a few seconds, the pain lightening, only to come back full force when John moved the heavy chain and Sherlock threw his head back and grunted when the second clamp closed over his other nipple. 

“Look at you,” John smiled, “they look stunning on you, I never want to take them off again.” 

Sherlock peeled his eyes open and looked down at himself and couldn’t stop the moan that made its way up his throat when he saw the picture he presented. 

“How does it feel, Sherlock. Tell me.” 

“H-hurts, Sir,” Sherlock panted. 

“But,” John prompted. 

“I-I…” 

John lifted his hand and curled his pinky around the middle of the chain and tugged on it. “You can say it, Sherlock. Come on.” 

By now, Sherlock’s brain had enough capability left to keep Sherlock breathing and form something that resembled speech and the former was definitely taking priority. 

“I…Oh god, lo—love it, don’t stop. Please, Sir.”

The fact that Sherlock could just reach up and take them off and make the agony go away, but absolutely didn’t want to, was also proof for how much he enjoyed this. 

Sherlock was on edge already and he would have begged to come, if not for the clamps to have the fortunate bonus of distracting him from his achingly hard cock too. 

With his eyes closed again, he felt John moving around him. “Put your hands behind your head,” John ordered and began running the rope around Sherlock’s chest, first over, then underneath and once more over his pectorals. 

He then brought the rope over Sherlock’s right shoulder, down his sternum, and connected the two lines already there, before running it back up over his left shoulder and tying it in the back. 

It could have been almost relaxing, but the process caused the chain to move constantly and thus leaving Sherlock gasping and whimpering with pain. 

John got back around in front of Sherlock and asked, “Still feeling good, Sherlock?” 

It took Sherlock two tries, before he could get out a chocked, “Yes, Sir.”

“Hmm, lovely,” John sighed and promptly wiggled at the chain again. “I love the sounds you make when I do this. I think you earned yourself a little reward for being so obedient for me.” 

The aching in Sherlock’s cock had blended with the consistent throbbing pain in his nipples, so when John gave him two slow and torturous pulls from root to tip, the reminder of how painfully hard he was, was actually worse than the short relieve he got from John’s hand. 

John took the second coil of rope and unrolled it. “Lift up on your knees. You can take your arms down. Put them on my shoulders if you want to,” John instructed and circled the rope around Sherlock’s right thigh several times, ending it in a knot and letting the end lay on the mattress. 

He then took the last of the three ropes and did the same to Sherlock’s left leg. 

“I’m afraid these need to come off now,” John said with feigned sadness, gesturing to the nipple clamps decorating Sherlock’s chest. “The question is, should I just pull them off, or do you think you earned me taking them off the way I put them on?” 

“Oh god. No, please, Sir. Please, the—the latter. I can’t…” Sherlock stammered frantically, because he was sure, if John did the former, he would either come and thus earning him a punishment of unknown dimensions, or outright die. 

John regarded him thoughtfully for a few seconds before he said, “Put your arms back behind your back. I’m going to take them off slowly. If you are _not_ able to keep your eyes on mine the whole time, they’re going back on and _then_ I’m going to pull them off, understood?” 

“Ye—s, Sir,” Sherlock answered brokenly, with absolutely no idea how he was going to do that. 

It was enough for John to only touch the first clamp to make Sherlock want to screw his eyes shut, but he forced himself to look into John’s eyes, fingernails digging into the palms of his hand and the blatant portrayal of power exchange in that moment made his arousal spike to new heights and his cock impossibly harder. 

The rush of blood back into his nipple was a flood wave of burning pins and needles and he couldn’t stop the grunts and whimpers he made while his eyes started to water. 

When the seconds one was removed with the same feelings added on top of his already freed nipple, a single tear made it’s way down his right cheek. 

John was right there, wiping the tear away with a soft touch and then cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands. “You did so good. I’m so unbelievably proud of you, love.” 

_Love_.

He brought their lips together, the kiss slow and soft and Sherlock reveled in the affection and care John took over him. 

They broke apart and John took the end of the rope on Sherlock’s left side and pulled it through the line of rope over his sternum and did the same with the other. 

John looked up from his hands. “How do you feel, Sherlock?” 

“I love you, John,” Sherlock said and it wasn’t blurted out, it was the absolute truth and everything he wanted and could say in that moment. 

John stared at him for a moment and then slid his left hand into the curls at Sherlock’s nape and lightly scratched his scalp, making Sherlock lean into the touch and give a whole body shiver. “I love you too, Sherlock.” 

The feeling that washed over Sherlock and spread through every fibre of his body was indescribable and if he were in any other situation, he would have been able to do or say something, but right now, he just closed his eyes and basked in that entirely new sensation. 

That short moment of calm was interrupted by John moving to his side and pulling slowly on the two ends of rope, which caused Sherlock’s upper body to be drawn closer and closer to the mattress. 

Halfway there, John placed a pillow underneath Sherlock and steadied him with a hand over his collarbones, before pulling on the ropes again until Sherlock was laying with his chest on the pillow.

With the the ropes securely tied, he was unable to squirm away from the cloth rubbing on his oversensitive nipples. 

He was fully exposed, arse in the air and his hands still voluntarily held behind his back. 

It felt incredible being immobilized, both by John’s doing and his will alone and he could feel a sort of calm wash over him that couldn’t be compared to anything else. 

John was off the bed and although Sherlock could not see him, he heard John undressing quick, but calmly and was now once again behind Sherlock, caressing his back, trailing his palms over his arse and down his thighs. 

He heard the quiet click of a cap and then a wet finger was circling his hole, the sensation making him keen in anticipation and his cock twitch between his legs. 

Sherlock felt himself relaxing into it before the finger pushed slowly in, then pulled out almost all the way and back in again, all the way up until Sherlock could feel John’s knuckles brushing his skin. 

They had done this part before, so Sherlock moaned with pleasure when he felt a second finger sliding gradually into him, stretching his hole in the most delicious way. 

John kept fucking him like that for a while, very rarely giving Sherlock the pleasure of stroking his prostate, but relaxing him more and more regardless, so when a third finger slid alongside the other two, there was no pain, not even a burning stretch, only the feeling of being full and the tingling friction of John’s movements. 

“You look so fucking beautiful with those ropes on your skin, Sherlock. I can’t wait get my cock into you.” 

“Please, Sir,” Sherlock pleaded. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Hmm, how could I say no to that pretty voice begging me.” 

The fingers were gone, leaving Sherlock empty and surprised at how wrong it felt to not have something filling him. 

He heard the cap being opened and closed for a second time and then John’s cock was nudging against his entrance and Sherlock tried desperately to rock back on it, but his restrained kept him exactly where he was, at John’s mercy. 

When John finally breached him, he chocked on his own breath, unable to process the incredibly feeling of John’s cock slowly sinking into him inch by inch. 

John bottomed out and the breath Sherlock was holding rushed out of him in a long and loud moan that was outright obscene. 

“God, Sherlock you feel amazing,” John sighed and then began moaning as well when he started to move. 

The first few thrusts were long and deep, pushing the air out of Sherlock lungs every time, sending wave after wave of bone deep electricity through his body and leaving no coherent thought inside him. 

It was bliss. 

He felt John pick up the pace and then the angle changed slightly and John was pounding across Sherlock’s prostate on almost every thrust and Sherlock was suddenly very close to the edge. 

“John, Sir!” he yelled, “oh god, may I come, Sir. Please!” 

“No,” was all John said and continued fucking Sherlock. 

“Please, I—I can’t. I can’t hold out, Sir.” 

John stilled deep inside Sherlock, making him sob and whimper, while he said, “It’s quite easy, Sherlock. If you come now, without my permission, I’m just going to keep fucking you until you’re ready for another go and able to obey my rules.” 

“No! No, please. I—I can—can do it,” Sherlock stammered, just the thought of breaking John’s rule worse than the punishment that would follow. 

“That’s my boy, I know you can do it,” John praised and picked up right were he left of, fucking Sherlock with strong snaps of his hips, skin slapping against skin. 

It felt like hours of ecstasy mixed with an agonizing urge to let go and come for hours and hours. 

He was so deep in trying to prevent his own climax that when he heard John order, “Come for me, Sherlock,” he would swear he did not make the conscious decision to follow that command. 

And of course, John was right. 

The fall over the edge felt more like a crash at top speed, every muscle in Sherlock’s body locked up and he _screamed_ John’s name while rope after rope of come landed on his chest and the sheets beneath him, he thought it would never end. 

The following minutes went by as if he were not really there, only white noise in his head and John’s warm finger on his skin. 

With the precision of a surgeon's hands and the calmness only John could radiate, he released Sherlock of his bonds, beginning by returning Sherlock’s arms to his sides and massaging his upper arms, then untying his thighs from his chest before he gathered Sherlock in his arms, kneeling in front of him, and removing the rope from Sherlock’s chest. 

He kept murmuring sweet nothings, which Sherlock head no idea about what they meant, his mind still blissfully flooded with endorphins and hormones, but they somehow still felt incredibly soothing. 

John loosened the ties on the tops of Sherlock’s thighs and he then felt himself being laid on his side and the ropes slowly pulled from his legs and John spend a few minutes massaging them as well.

He was gradually becoming aware of his existence again when John returned with a warm flannel, gently wiping away the come on Sherlocks chest and between his thighs and arse cheeks. 

John then got into bed, laying beside Sherlock and facing him. “I am so proud of you, love. You were my perfect sub, obeying all my rules and following every single order,” John said and then rubbed a cooling creme over Sherlock’s abused nipples with the lightest touch, which still made Sherlock hiss and then sigh in relief. 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock breathed, every cell in his body feeling weighed down and unable to move even one finger. 

“Oh Sherlock,” John sighed, peppering him with kisses and running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “I should be thanking _you_. I feel like the happiest and most fortunate man on earth to have you right here by my side.” 

Sherlock smiled. “Me too, John.” 

Several minutes, or hours, passed and both drifted in and out of sleep, John wrapped around Sherlock’s body, but keeping a tiny distance between their chests to protect Sherlock’s nipples from further onslaught. 

“John?” Sherlock asked after a while. 

“Hmm?” 

He cleared his throat, almost feeling too sheepish to ask this. “How did you learn to do that with the ropes.” 

“Oh,” John said and Sherlock could make out the blush on his cheeks even in the darkened room. “Do you remember Henry Fishguard?” 

“Who?” 

Now it was John’s turn to clear his throat in obvious embarrassment. “It was a case and you had a dummy hanged in the living room? I found him in the cellar and practiced on him while you were at Bart’s and I didn’t have to work. But I used packing twine, not the ropes.” 

“Hmm,” Sherlock commented, surprised and a fair bit amazed by John’s confession. “Did you take photos?” 

That made John giggle and Sherlock soon followed after him. 

“Of course I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, this is how Sherlock was [tied up](https://youtu.be/uHcFA05FyDQ?t=2m37s).
> 
> You can also come and say hi on my [Tumblr](https://mariowasd.tumblr.com/) and prompt me with some kinky ideas for something I could write. :)


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